Super Star Destroyer!
by Epyon the Bored
Summary: A little series of random junk about the real nutcases of the Star Wars universe: The captains of the really, REALLY big ships. Created as something to do while my brain works on other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

The Writer does not own Star Wars or any of its related ships, characters, weapons, etc. These are property of Lucasarts. If Lucasarts wishes it, then this story will be removed from the web. However, the Writer IS having his own Super Star Destroyer built, and then he will own Star Wars! He will own the galaxy! He will own YOU!

This is a little bunch of short little ficlets I have composed about the adventures of the primary four _Executor-_class Star Dreadnoughts, _Executor (commanded by Admiral Piett), Lusankya (Ysanne Isard), Iron Fist (Warlord Zsinji), _and _(K)Night's Hammer (Admiral Daala)_. Occasionally we'll have others join the four in battle (or against them). This first is one of their monthly Star Poker games, which were originally featured in my Neon Genesis Evangelion fiction, NERV Psychiatric Ward. Please note that their original personalities have been completely destroyed and _SOMETHING_ has taken their places.

There are no rules here. The characters will do whatever amuses the Writer (And you, if you know what's good for you. he's not kidding. He hung the last person who didn't laugh at his joke out on a bird feeder with a garden hose, and then-_ga-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ak!_ Hmph. Serves him right).

Well, now my announcements and shit are done with, so I reluctantly present this odd little fic.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… 

STAR-R-R WARS-S-S-S!

(do-ot-do-ot-do-ot) STAR-R-R WARS-S-S-S!

LA-DA-DE-E-E-E!

We honestly don't know when all of

this takes place, and we honestly

don't care. We're making a humor

fanfiction here. Who cares _when_

it takes place? But then, we suppose,

we wouldn't bother writing this, and

we'd all die…

Anyway, there's a lot of s-t (Yes, thanks to the

new system, we have to put hyphens in between

asterisks) going on in the galaxy. Four wierdos have

gotten their hands on a big new toy called the

_Executor-class Star Dreadnought (Incorrectly called_

_a Super Star Destroyer) _that some baboon writing the

original technical manual is always labeling the ship

as 8 kilometers long (said baboon recently changed

statement to 12.8 kilometers) but is really proven to

be 17.6 kilometers long (www . the force . net / swtc /)

many millions of times, and is said to only have 250

of each kind of gun, which is a ridiculously low number

for a ship of that size, and if that were true, then Lira

Wessex (Blissex? The Writer can't remember) would

be crazy(ier).

These four strange commanders are called Piett, Isard,

Zsinji, and Daala. Daala and Isard are really, _really_ lucky,

because we know how much Emperor Palpatine hates women

(_WHY,_ we don't know. He probably lacks a penis). And they

shall amuse you as far as the Writer wishes them, and if you

don't laugh the Writer will unleash his pet super-refined berserker

known only as the Author on you. Then our friends in command

will dine on your flesh and (**The Penguin Board of Censors has **

**determined the extremely violent descriptions here inappropriate**

**for human viewing. Thank You)**.

Now, watch as the screen falls away into nothingness and your eyes land on a

P

L

A

N

E

T

(That last bit was originally done in the scrolling format at the beginning of the movies. Unfortunately, the upload process screws up formats, and so, it is like it is. That's why it looks so wierd.)

A massive triangular object flew in on top of yourviewpoint.

It kept on going.

And going.

And going.

And going.

And going.

And going.

And going.

And going

And going.

And going.

And going.

And G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-ING…

Hell, it even went on longer than Spaceball One.

And though we eventually got to see the engines, to our dismay, the Writer had ripped from Star Wars's beloved spoof, Spaceballs. The rear fender bore a kilometer-wide bumper sticker reading 'WE BRAKE FOR NOBODY'.

On the bridge of the _Executor_ Admiral Piett was grinning with anticipation. The bridge crew was looking at him strangely.

Luitenant Commander Data, who was warped in for this scene specifically, walked up to Piett.

"Admiral," He said "We have reached the rendezvous point. And, if I may, sir," Data asked "Why do you have that ridiculous grin plastered all over your face?"

"Because Daala just got out of NERV Psychiatric Ward, and, as a present to ourselves, we gave Daala the credits to go buy us some GERMAN BEER!" Piett laughed. "Oh, I'm so HAPPY!"

"I cannot share your sentiment, sir." The android replied. "I do not have normally-functioning tastebuds, as you do, and I only make thirty thousand credits a year, and cannot afford German beer."

"Amazing." Piett sighed. "The Writer is only thirteen, but he's already raving about German beer. What does this tell you about the Galaxy's youth these days?"

"That the Writer has a good sense of humor, sir." Daata replied. "And he advises that you agree with this sentiment. He has a horde of evil monsters at his command, including the combined Armed Forces of Orlando Bloom fandom."

A picture popped up on Piett's console. It was Legolas, brandishing his bow. Meanwhile, some ten million of his fans surged through the gates of Minas Tirith, mauling Sauron with their horn-rimmed maces.

"I see what you mean." The admiral cringed.

**_F-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-T-B-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-M!_**

"AAAAAAAAAGH!" Piett screamed, being thrown from his chair by the impact of two more Super Star Destroyers emerging from hyperspace right on top of _Executor_. Commander Data suffered a brain malfunction and exploded against the back wall, thus disposing of an annoying character that the Writer would have gotten sick of in only five minutes, thus eliminating a major problem in the writing of this…_thing…_

Two large holographic images of his felllow SSD commanders popped up. Ysanne Isard, on _Lusankya,_ and Zsinji, on _Iron Fist._ Isard screamed first.

"**PIETT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING IN OUR EXIT VECTOR?"**she yelled, her red eye burning like the fires in Hell. "**DO YOU KNOW HOW HIGH THE INSURANCE PREMIUMS ARE ON THESE THINGS? AND GAS IS EVIL ALREADY! I DON'T NEED TO BE PAYING MY INSURANCE COMPANIES TWO HUNDRED BILLION MORE CREDITS A YEAR, YOU KNOW!"**

Piett recovered quickly. **"WELL, I'M NOT THE ONE WHO HAD TO GO AND RAM A FRIGGIN YUUZHAN VONG WORLDSHIP! I MEAN, COME ON! IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOUR PREMIUMS WENT UP!"**

**"THAT WAS A GODDAMNED REBEL WHO GAVE THAT ORDER, NOT ME!" **Isard screamed even louder. The window panes on Piett's bridge were starting to crack.

**"SEE IF I CARE! IN FACT, _BITE ME!"_**

The bridges on both ships became deadly quiet. Then, Isard's image began to glow. Her eye looked like it was about to explode. And then, a loud whining came over the comm as Isard's eye glowed a bright white. And then-

FZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKb-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-t!

Isard and Zsinji(Who hadn't said a word since the beginning of the chapter, and was looking very small at the moment)'s blinked out of existence, into static. The hologram projector in the middle of the room started to steam, it's circuits completely fried.

…

…

…

"…Laser eyes are…sweet…" Piett muttered, still in awe.

"Correction." Data's severed head said from the back of the room. "Laser eyes are so amazingly, totally, sweet. I must look in to getting so-"

BLAM!

Twenty blasters went off at once, effectively removing Data from this story.

And then the _Knight Hammer_ came.

"Hey everybody!" Daala giggled, skipping up and down the bridge. "Don't fight! I'VE GOT GERMAN BEER!"

…Things eased up a bit from there.

BrainFillerChapter One End

NEXT EPISODE…

We get to see what happens at the poker game! E-e-YAY! (Hint: It involves BEER!)

Author's Crap

And so…

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-kay…

The first chapter of my first Star Wars fic… How did I do?

Please, tell me. I love to hear your comments.

Know now, though, that I have been flamed only once, and said evil, horribly mislead reviewer was beaten to death with a massive, red, wide brimmed hat. You in Hellsing know the one I'm talking about.

Fin.


	2. The Fab Four And FRIENDS!

The Writer does not own Star Wars. If George Lucas wishes it, this story will be removed from the web. But ONLY after he tells me why the _Venator_-class Star Destroyer is better than the _Victory-_class AND the _Imperator_-class Star Destroyer, which is built AFTER the _Venator_ AND is larger by approximately 600 meters. And why its bridges (In PLURAL!) don't conform to the KDY standards! BUt it's still cool. I like it better than the other two.

Hello and welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the THIRD rewriting of Chapter Two of Super Star Destroyer. I've spent the last few weeks getting this godforsaken computer (the NEW godforsaken computer, not the old one) to work to a degree, and while its stats are great, it did NOT come with Microsoft Word, and it promises to kill itself in a short period of time if I don't cough up a bunch of cash that I don't have to Microsoft and Toshiba.

Okay, I'll try not to bore you anymore. I'll just get to work.

Super Star Destroyer!

Chapter Two

The Fab Four (and FRIENDS!)

**(Note: I'll probably never actually _include_ the poker game. That was in NERV Psych Ward, I think chapter four or three, unless I can think up another REALLY GOOD joke to put it in for. So read the original there.)**

Piett raised his head off of the table, and immediately felt something was wrong, and it wasn't his hangover. He looked down, and discovered that at some point in the night they had elected to play strip poker, and that he had lost.

He dropped his head back onto the table and grabbed a pack of ice from the otherwise-empty beer cooler on his side of the table. He slapped it to his head and immediately regretted it, mostly because the ice cubes inside were SHARP, dammit, but also because the bag exploded for no apparent reason. And THEN...

'_Ha-a-aleluiah! Ha-a-aleluiah! Haleluiah! Haleluiah! Hale-elui-i-ah! Ha-a-aleluiah...'_

Piett groaned, and looked up at Isard's face, which was covered in a pink sign bearing the words "Get Ass Kicked by Vampire Goons! Only Fifty Credits!"

Piett moaned a bit more, and thought of killing the Writer, or even the Author, if he came by, but thought better of it, knowing full well that (A) both of them were invincible, and (B) he had too much of a hangover to to anything.

'_And he shall reign forever and e-e-ever! And he shall reign..."_

Piett slammed his head into the table over and over, trying to make the little voices go away...

**_EXECUTOR_-CLASS STAR DREADNOUGHT! IT'S A DIVIDER! OH WOW!**

General Melvar was Not Pleased. He was Not Pleased because his Super Star Destroyer was short two TIE Interceptors. He was Not Pleased because some strange group of Ensigns were throwing big cans of Axe Body Spray attached to small thermal detonators into the various officers lounges all over the ship so that when the detonators exploded they turned the lounges into a Boy's Locker Room Gone Wrong. He was Not Pleased because Warlord Zsinji had run off with _Iron Fist_ to go to that accursed game of "Poker" he held every month with those other twits. But above all, he was Not Pleased because someone had stolen his copy of Verdi Requiem. Oh. And some idiot had named his _Executor-_class Star Dreadnought _Razor's Kiss_. What the Hell kind of name is that for a battlecruiser? That sounds more like some kind of fast light attack craft.

He stood there on his bridge, being Not Pleased, until several ideas struck him that should have been quite obvious to the reader.

When he found the Axe Bomber, he'd have him/her shot. He'd buy two TIE interceptors from the Author when he dropped by. In fact, he'd enlist the Author's help in bringing back Zsinji, AND ask for a copy of the Author's Verdi Requiem. And he'd act pissed at Zsinji for running off without his permission, and, in his guilt, Zsinji would _let Melvar change the name of his ship!_ A perfect day!

Melvar grinned, and brought up the Star Destroyer's hypercomm array. Oh, this was going to be _fun..._

**SOOPAH STAH DESTROYAH! END, YA!**


End file.
